Oh My Gosh, we're stuck again!
by moniff
Summary: Apparently, no one is writing fanfictions anymore. What's happening, and why? Our heroes investigate. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: second NCIS fic, a parody again. Of course I don't own anything or anyone, it's made just for fun.**

**Here's first chapter, the next (and last) will be up soon.**

**Reviews and constructive criticism are very appreciated.**

OOOOOOO

"Oh I'm soooo bored!" Abby complained. It was almost three days since the last time someone had used her character in a story, and that was quite unusual for her.  
"I mean, they haven't even given me a little tiny bit part, a token role, a cameo, nothing!" she was on the verge of tears.

"Well, you're not the only one who's apparently stuck here," Tony comforted her, "seems like we're all in the same boat. "

In fact, in last few days their appearances in fictions had gradually slowed down and then had abruptly stopped.

"Huh? Someone talking about my boat? Still wondering how I manage to get them out of the basement?" Gibbs, their omniscient, omnipresent, always-listening, superhero boss, once again popped up behind them.

"Oh, no, boss, not again with your boat," Tony complained. "Shit, couldn't you have a common hobby, just like everybody else? I mean, stamps, gardening, vintage postcards, something like that? Well, anyway, how do you get'em out of your basement?" he added, after a pensive pause.

"Secret, DiNozzo," Gibbs smirked.

"He probably doesn't know either," Tony whispered to Abby, who just chuckled.

Then, after a surprised pause, Tony addressed Gibbs, "How come you didn't headslapped me? I'm sure you heard me, you always do. You remember in that fic, you were at the nineteenth floor of a burning building –or was it the eighteenth? Never mind – anyway, I was the basement and I whispered something and you managed to hear me!" Tony explained.

"Don't exaggerate, DiNozzo, it was just the seventeenth floor, and, yes I heard you this time, too. I just don't feel like headslapping you. You know, I've done it so many times I developed a muscular trauma in my poor hand," Gibbs explained, waving his hand in front of his agents' eyes. "Doctors told me to keep it still. Well, they recommended me bed rest, too," he added.

"Oh, really? It must be bad then. Going into a coma?" Tony asked intrigued. "It should be nice to see someone else's injuries once in a while."

"I heard someone is injured?" Ducky, who was just passing by, chimed in, suddenly interested. "Today I still haven't examined anyone, dead or alive," he observed, "that's quite annoying. I remember a guy, a doctor, who didn't-"

"If the story includes a dead frog, a bike and a banana, yes, you already told me, Duck," Gibbs cut him off.

"Oh, yes, indeed, that's exactly the story I was going to tell," poor Ducky was taken aback. "Maybe, however, our young Anthony and Abigail haven't heard it yet?" he hopefully asked.

"Oh no, I remember it very well," Tony lied. Then, seeing the disappointment showing on the doctor's face he added, trying to cheer him up, "a very funny one."

Ducky frowned, "I found it very sad, instead."

"Anyway, nobody's hurt. Not yet anyway," Gibbs butted him, while glaring at Tony.

"Well, then I guess we'll skip the examination part," Ducky sighed. "Unless anyone wants a quick check-up… Mr Palmer still needs to acquire experience," he offered.  
"Maybe young Anthony's scarred lungs?" he went on, addressing the younger agent. "Or your last stab wound? Any recently dislocated shoulder, healing ankle, broken rib, nicked bone, compound fracture, punctured vital organ, head injury you want me to check?" he politely asked.

"No, thanks, no major injuries today," Tony vehemently refused. "Hey! Now that you make me think about it, it's almost two days I haven't been hurt!" he wondered.

"41 hours, 23 minutes, 27 seconds to be exact," McGee popped up.

"You keeping the count?" Tony asked him, surprised.

"Not me, my laptop. We were making a bet 'bout it. I bet you wouldn't pass unscathed forty hours, but unfortunately you did," McGee seemed very annoyed.

"Oh, yeah, what a shame," Tony sarcastically commented.

"You could have injured him to win your bet," Ziva addressed Tim, completely ignoring Tony. "If you had told me, I would have done it myself."

"That's very kind of you, thanks," the Italian was even more indignant.

"Oh, yeah, I thought about that, too, but it was against the rules," Tim, too, totally ignored his colleague.

"Well, as I was saying, we seem all kinda stuck in this situation," Tony decided to end their annoying conversation, before Ziva decided to injure him anyway. "I mean, no one has been used in a story in the last two days, or so."

"41 hours, 23 minutes, 27 seconds to be exact," McGee repeated.

"You've already told this line," Abby frowned.

"Yes. It was the amount of time since Tony's last injury, and it coincides exactly with the last time any of us was employed in a fiction." he explained.

"Well, then it must be more now," she pointed out. "I mean, when you told that it was at least twelve lines ago, something like that. Time must've passed since then."

McGee hastily checked on his iPhone, that was obviously interconnected with his laptop, "Oh, yes, you're right, it's 41 hours, 26 minutes, 03 seconds now. I wonder why I didn't think about that myself," he added annoyed.

"Really a mystery, McBright," Tony muttered acerbically.

"Come on guys, we're losing the point here," Abby scolded them, "we must find out why all the stories seem to be stuck."

A heavy, meditative silence fell upon them.

"Maybe all the authors are having a bad case of writer's block," McGee timidly suggested. "It can be very hard to overcome."

He was the voice of experience, after all.

"All of'em at the same time?" Gibbs, instead, was skeptical. McGee blushed and shut up.

"Well, maybe this widespread writer's block was caused by a major viral disease," Palmer excitedly exclaimed. "Wow, what an interesting clinical case it would be!"

"I don't think so, Mr Palmer. Of course, human nature is very mysterious, and countless are the secrets it conceals, but still I believe such a disease to be highly improbable." Ducky sounded very unconvinced.

"Maybe writers're all dead?" Tony threw out, "an alien invasion, maybe?" he guessed. "It reminds me 'bout a movie, where-" .  
One of Gibbs's special glares was enough to stop him. "Oh, I guess I'll tell you another time," he hurriedly concluded.

"Oooh, Gibbs, zombies! Probably an invasion, I'm sure," Abby seemed as excited by the zombie explanation as Palmer had been by his disease theory. "I see them, rotten corpses walking-"

Again, Gibbs's glare was enough to shut her up.

"A strike, maybe?" an almost transparent Kate popped up.

"What does bowling have to do with this?" Ziva was obviously confused.

"A strike? _A strike_? Why should the writers do that? _We_ should be the ones on a strike!" Tony was outraged. "We're the ones who 're always working hard or getting hurt, threatened, beaten, _killed_! _They just have fun!_"

"Oh, okay, not a strike, then," Kate hurriedly soothed him.

Ziva, still trying to figure out how a bowling match could prevent an author to work on his stories, or why an injured Tony would want to throw a ball to take pins down, simply avoided any comment.

"Anyway, why are you so, hum, thin?" Tony suddenly noticed Kate's appearance. "A new diet?"

"I'm dead, moron!" was the exasperated answer.

"Oh…I know, but…I don't wanna seem tactless, but you've always been."

She glared at him.

"Recently, at least," he hurriedly added, blushing.

"I mean I died in the first chapter of the last fic. The story is about me appearing to you all as a spirit," she explained.

"Ah, like a ghost. You scare the shit outta us, things like that?" Tony smirked. "Sounds amusing!"

Kate sighed, disgusted, "It's not amusing, it's meant to be _moving_! "

Again, Gibbs just glared. They all shut up and the above mentioned meditative silence fell again.

If it had been a cartoon, smoke would have probably started coming out from their ears.

"Fanfiction .net isn't working," Gibbs finally calmly stated.

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's last chapter. Hope you like :)**

_Again, Gibbs just glared. They all shut up and the above mentioned meditative silence fell again._

_If it had been a cartoon, smoke would have probably started coming out from their ears._

_"Fanfiction .net isn't working," Gibbs finally calmly stated._

_OOOOOOO_

No one dared contradict him. He was Gibbs, and he was always right.

"Hem, how did you figure that out, boss? " Tony broke the admiring silence that had followed Gibbs' statement.

"I just know, DiNozzo," Gibbs shrugged, as stating the obvious. "I'm a Marine, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Tony muttered. He always forgot that.

"So, what do we do now?" Abby asked. She didn't like inactivity.

"We wait," Gibbs was impassive.

"Hey, come on, there must be something we can do! I can't stay like this, I'm transparent!" Kate, instead, wasn't impassive at all.

"Why not, it's kind of amusing…I can look through you!" Tony sounded really excited as he started moving around Kate's body, looking for the best panoramic viewpoint.

He was stopped by one of the famous Gibbs' head slaps.

"Hey! You said you couldn't do that!" Tony complained, rubbing his offended head.  
"And, anyway, I like this situation better, because, for once, I'm perfectly healthy, and I haven't been injured or terribly sick for the last two days, that is _since the last time I was used in a fic_!"

"41 hours 54 minutes and 32 sec-" As usual, Gibbs glared, McGee shut up.

Ziva, who had apparently come to the conclusion that she didn't give a damn about the relationship between American people and bowling, took part again in the discussion, directly addressing Tony.  
"Well, I like you better when you're injured. You even manage to shut up for more than 5 minutes."

Gibbs shot both of them a dirty look, cutting off any potential discussion, exasperated.  
"You know, I'm kinda sick of glaring at you all and shooting nasty looks, let alone frowning, scowling and all that crap. Doctors warned me I run the risk of developing some severe injury to the eyes," he added thoughtfully.

"And wrinkles, too," Abby added.

"If you have problems with expression lines," Ducky butted in, " I was told about a mixture that works miracles on skin. It's made of milk, wolf spider cobwebs, soya sprouts and a final touch of marijuana-" his long explanation was cut off by Gibbs' exasperated sigh.

"I have no problems with wrinkles or expression lines, _thanks_!"

"Hey, Gibbs, it seemed interesting, "Abby complained, " especially the last ingredient," she added with a mischievous smile.

McGee suddenly popped up, averting his eyes from the notebook he had been busy working on in the last minutes. "Hey boss, you were right, Fanfiction is really down!"

"How do you know?" Ziva asked.

"I just connected to the internet and tried to log on my profile page," he shrugged.

An astonished silence followed that revelation.

"Hey, you did something smart," Tony seemed disbelieving "and you did it all alone!"

" Hey, DiNozzo, he is in my team, _I_ chose him, so he can't be all that bad," Gibbs seemed a bit offended by Tony's statement.

"Yeah, but I'm your Senior Field Agent," Tony almost pouted.

"Yes Tony, we know," Ziva was exasperated, "you're always reminding us in fics, at least twice a chapter."

"The average is 2,67 times each chapter," a quick glance on his iPad and McGee had the exact data. "And it comes close to 5.0 in those fics where Kate or Ziva and I are being mean to you. You know, the ones in which we behave horribly against you and so Gibbs fires us," he added acerbically.

"Guys, we're losing the point here," Abby scolded them, preventing any remark Tony was surely going to do. "I.e. what we do now, right, Gibbs?"

"I always wondered what i.e. stands for," a pensive Ziva again interrupted her.

"It's Latin, and it stands for _id est_," Ducky promptly butted in, glad he could be an useful part in the conversation.

Ziva just blankly stared at him.

"Stands for 'that is'," Tony explained. Then, after a pensive pause, he added, as if he was talkin to himself "I shouldn't have said that. I just have a degree in Physical Education, I'm probably not meant to know Latin."

"Yeah, about that…I always wondered why you're the Senior field agent, that's not fair, you've just a Phy_"

"McGee." Gibbs' glare almost bore a hole through the younger agent, who immediately shut up.

"You're the one who should have had Y. Pestis, McPlague . Maybe a lethal infection…" Tony acerbically muttered under his breath. He didn't have to wait long for Gibbs' head slap.

"Anyway, bossman, what are we going to do now? I'm sure you're going to have a great idea, you always have one. Well, usually more than one, at least a couple in each episode or fic chapter, you always manage to solve incredibly dangerous and inextricable situations, and so at the end it seems that we'll live happy forever, but of course we don't because in the next fic there will be a lot of new troubles and baddies and kidnappings, then you'll have another stroke of genius and-"

"ABBY!" All his colleagues shouted as one man. She looked at them, a bit embarrassed.

"I guess I went a little rambling, huh?"

"Well, my dear Abigail, it happens to anyone sometimes," Ducky chimed in. "I remember a young man I met some years ago that_"

"Ducky, not now!" Gibbs sounded more than a bit frustrated. His team was starting looking more and more like a bunch of kids, with an attention span shorter than an ant.  
With an irritated glare he prevented any possible off topic interjection.

"As Abby was saying, we have a problem, and we gotta find a solution. And," lifting a finger he stopped Abby, who was going to say something, "yes, I have plan."

The black-haired forensic immediately hugged him, her smile so big and satisfied it seemed she had just been given an hectoliter of Caf-Pow.

"So, bossman, enlighten our poor small minds!" she declared.

"My plan is…" Gibbs started, then abruptly stopped. "Shit, I forgot," he swore.

An astonished silence followed the amazing revelation.

"It can't be, boss, " Tony was the first who manage to break the silence, "I mean, you can't be wrong, let alone _forgetting what you're saying_!"

"It's unbelievable" McGee seemed frightened.

"Shocking," Kate echoed him.

"Scaring," was Abby's opinion.

"Mind-bobbling," Ziva concluded.

"Boggling," Tony basically settled for just correcting her. They had all get the point, anyway.

Ducky, with a concerned look, directly addressed Gibbs, "Jethro, have you ever had such kind of episodes recently? Or other symptoms such as headache, nausea, double vision, finger cramps, hearing disorders, epistaxis?"

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"You know, Jethro, maybe all the blows to the head you suffered during all these years could have damaged your brain," he patiently explained.

"Or you could have just developed an incurable, extremely rare disease that's causing you memory losses," Mr. Palmer seemed thrilled by the possibility. "Maybe we're going to discover a new disease, and we'll become very famous! Maybe we'll even win the Nobel Pri-"

Gibbs raised the other eyebrow.

Palmer flushed, embarrassed. " Sorry, I didn't mean …I don't want you to…I think I'll just shut up."

"Great idea, Jimmy," Tony chuckled.

"Oh, I just remembered my plan," Gibbs popped up. "Since we don't know how long this situation will last, we will just relax and take it easy and-" He abruptly stopped at the sound of Tony's voice: his SFA had just started singing under his breath.

"_Reeelaaax, take it eeeeeeeasy_, _for there is nothing tha-_ ops. Sorry boss," DiNozzo hastily added noticing the glare.

"As I was saying," Gibbs resumed, still glaring at Tony, "we can spend this time relaxing and," the glare intensified, as if challenging Tony to start singing again, "and making useful things."

"I could work on my boat, for example," he added, speaking mainly to himself.

"Very useful," Tony sarcastically muttered.

"_Excuse me?" _Gibbs' tone was almost frightening.

"Huh, I was sayin' it is useful, you know, you're always overwhelmed by work or worries, especially when one of us gets injured and-" Tony rambled, trying to spare his poor head another slap.

"And it happens very often to you," Gibbs dryly observed.

"The average is 3.7 lethal wounds in each fic," McGee felt it was time to make his contribution to the discussion, " but it increases if we consider also not-lethal injuries. It comes to," he paused to check on his laptop, "6.8 if I'm not wrong."

"Hey, it's hardly my fault," Tony was on a defensive. "All these writers enjoy make me suffer. Especially the ones with nicknames such as _LoveDiNozzo_, _Tony4ever_, _TonsofTony, _things like that. Kinda creepy!"

"Just think what might happen to you if they chose nickname like _WannaKillDinozzo_," Abby chuckled.

DiNozzo just shivered.

"It is indeed kind of surprising the way you manage to suffer rather severe injuries and still survive," Duck observed, oblivious of their discussion about fic-writers' names. "Trouble is, you are also a very challenging patient," he added, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, always tryin' sneaking out of hospitals, refusing pain meds and so on," Abby agreed.

"Hey, you would try to avoid hospitals too if you were in my situation," Tony was indignant, "I always end up hospitalized. The average gotta be 4.5 times each fiction," he added, frowning. Then, addressing McGee, he asked ,"or is it 3.9?"

"4.4 to be exact," McGee was prompt as always.

"Well, anyway, behave guys," Gibbs was taking leave. "As I already said, I'll use this free time working on my boat."  
Then after a pensive pause, "You know, you never know when it'll happen again, better take the chance."

"Then you should use this time payin' a visit to your ol' dad," Jackson Gibbs had managed to sneak up behind'em without anyone –not even his son- noticing him.  
Well, after all Gibbs must have took his furtiveness after someone.

"Mr Gibbs," Ziva greeted him, "how are things in Immobilewater?"

"Still," Tony tiredly corrected her. "The water is still, not immobile."

"Same thing," she shrugged off, "either way it's motionless."

Tony just shook his head. He could recognize an hopeless case when he saw one.

"Well, anyway, everything's allright, thanks," Jackson answered. Then, turning to Tony, "I heard they're looking for you, you're required in a fic."

This last statement caught the whole group's attention.  
"McGee?" Gibbs pressingly addressed his younger agent, who hastily checked on his laptop, suspense and trepidation engulfing him. Then, after a seemingly endless pause, the verdict was returned.

"_Fanfiction is up again_."

"The game's up," Tony sighed resigned, "time to get back to work. Let's hope it'll be a relaxing fic at least, something nice maybe…you know, with some holydays, a girl, coupla beers and no hospitals at all," he added, a longing look in his eyes.  
Then, snapping back to reality, and almost afraid to ask, he addressed the elder Gibbs again, "Who was looking for me exactly?"

"Oh, a doctor with a funny name…let me think," Jackson answered pensively. "Tom Cruise? Matt Damon? Oh yeah, now I remember… Brad Pitt!"

THE END

**Thanks for reading.**

**If you feel like to, let me know what you think, especially about the language. I'm not an English native speaker, so constructive criticism about it (what in your opinion my weak points are, grammar or syntactical mistakes I made) would be of much help. Thanks again.**


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